Grief – Page 2 – Hearts Still Care

Death by O2

The pyres have been lit;
Like warning beacons, I say;
Yellow fire, on broken wood,
Wherein COVID victims lay.

They are wrapped in plastic;
No loved ones, no flowers;
Tired strangers have lit the fires,
They’ll burn but for a few hours.

“Sadgati!” Bhakts say, “not peace!”
They ignore the dead who died,
They replace love with hate,
They worship those who lied.

The pyres have been lit.
No oxygen brought their death.
Bodies light up like lanterns,
They were denied their last breath!

The gods must yet be appeased;
So rallies and melas abound;
We wait for the third phase now;
And the count of pyres in the coming round.

Bottles of medicines –
Empty now and lying there –
The last of your shampoo
I used on my hair.

The black comb
You forgot to take –
The socks in the drawer –
Careless mistakes –

The pop socket broke –
We bought it, us three –
These little, last things
You won’t ever see.

I hold on to them
Like pieces of a heart,
And wonder when
The moving on shall start.

Will others see me like you did?
Will this be the price of fame?
I do not like who I see now –
Will all of me remain the same?

I fear it isn’t so, never was;
And I do not think it will be –
Even you lied, eventually,
Taking away the best of me.

I wish I had power to be
A man with complete security;
No one to depend on or love:
A replete identity.

Yet, if you lied about your love,
Then your thoughts on me are false, too;
Ergo, I am not incomplete,
Despite the part I gave to you.